Bayushki Bayu
by fatcatbeatrice
Summary: RoChu songfic, sad... Russia sings to a dying China. T for fluff/gore.


AN: A songfic for something we're singing in choir, please enjoy~

You can listen to this song here: watch?v=9zQp5oIwG6U

Or for the infinitely looped version: ?v=9zQp5oIwG6U

It was a calm night. A beautiful one really. The sky was a lake on a windless night, serene, soft, inky black. The stars were crystals, dancing and sparkling in the great dark sky. And the moon. Full, white as the purest light, round and majestic. It was a great contrast to the black of the sky. This moon, and those stars, shone down on the glistening snow, which was frigid, smooth, and as soft as a feather. The snow blanketed the trees like frosting, and those trees stood tall and proud around a clearing. The air was chilly, crisp. There was no breeze or wind, not even a whisper. The night smelled of pine, and fresh air; they were far from the pollution of humans. The serene silence was only occasionally interrupted by the low hoot of an owl. It was almost completely peaceful. It was almost just another night. But it wasn't.

The only thing that was not quite peaceful, were the nations. On one side stood China with Russia, who was leaning against him. China looked haggard, exhausted. His face scored with cuts, burns and bruises. His hair loose and tangled. The clothes he was wearing, – a red Chinese shirt and black pants - torn and crumpled. Russia was much the same. He looked angry, at his wits end. A bullet wound showed in his left leg. The pair stared unwaveringly, tiredly, and sorrowfully at those on the other side. Hong Kong, his clothes scorched, deep bags under the young nation's eyes. Taiwan, concerned, glancing between her comrades and the one who raised her, where he stood across the clearing. S. Korea, looking lost, but determined. They all stood there as well as one other. Japan. With a pistol, loaded and aimed at China. A look of utmost loathing on his face.

Perhaps a bit of explanation is necessary. A few months ago, every Asian Nation - save China - received a package, signed by China's handwriting. Each contained a small bomb, set to blow up when the package was opened. The nations had of course, not died. But they had been injured. This was all an elaborate hoax by Dark!Italy, but who could know that? So they went to war, furious with the one they thought had loved and cared for them. Russia, China's long-time lover, had been the only nation to aid him while all the Western countries had stayed out of it all together. After all, a skirmish between the nations of the Far East was unimportant to them.

"Japan, I have tried to tell time and again, aru. _It wasn't me. _The packages were delivered by hand, and I was with America that day, aru. Besides, when I write, I don't add 'aru', aru." China said once again, but this time he had finished his reasoning, something that had not happened before. The Asian gazed at Japan beseechingly.

You see, China had never been allowed to finish his 'excuse' as Japan would scornfully call it. So engulfed by hatred was Japan, he'd never allowed China to finish anything. Any letter or email trying to explain would be burnt or deleted. Japan had been furious, blinded by his own rage. The others had tried to make him listen, but before long they had been swept up too. Perhaps he had woken up on the better side of the bed this morning, and so he had finally let China finish his explanation. But that is not for us to know.

"I- You're right." Japan was ashamed. How could he not have realized? He had hurt his Older Brother. Again. As he slowly dropped his gun hand, a pile of snow fell from a tree branch. It scared him. The next few things seemed to happen slowly, ever so slowly. Japan started, his trigger finger slipped.

The gunshot shattered the peace of the night. It scared not only the nations, but all the creatures of the forest around them. The silence was broken, the momentary relief gone. It tore through the air, a tiny death-bringer. Fate's cruel joke. It found its stopping point in the China's abdomen. He fell forward, gasping in pain, to be caught by Russia and slowly lowered to the ground.

Japan dropped his gun, aghast. He started to run towards the pair, stumbling forward, a desperate, lost look on his face, but was turned back by Russia's glare.

"Just leave us, please." He sounded tired, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. Could he not be able to spend his lover's last moments away from his lover's killer? When Japan hesitated Russia nearly shouted "You have no right to be here, after making his last month's so miserable, and killing him." His anger was barely controlled; he didn't want to shout at Japan in front of China.

Japan, feeling ashamed and guilty, left slowly with the rest of his family. They all, looked lost, tears streaming down their faces. S. Korea - the youngest - sobbed openly. Taiwan put an arm around his soldiers, while Japan and Hong Kong simply shared a sad look. Who would be their Oldest Brother now?

Russia turned to China, whose head was in his lap, the rest of his body lying in the snow. At least the snow was soft. Tears blurred his vision; blood was spreading quickly across the nation's stomach. They were days from civilization, and Russia had no medical supplies. China was going to die, and the same fate was fast approaching for the other. The added wounds were too much, the war too long, the battles too hard.

He steeled himself and gazed into China's eyes. Those warm, loving, tired, beautiful, amber orbs. They were sad, but happy, somehow at the same time. Tired, and full of love. China gave a tiny, weak smile. No words were needed. Russia leaned down to kiss him, softly, tenderly and gently on the lips. A moment later he drew back, gently stroking China's hair. They kept eye contact, a strong connection through what had seen so much.

Perhaps this was for the best. Lately, he had been feeling tired, and knew China had been feeling the same way. All he'd ever wanted was to die in peace, happily. To not to die in a desperate battle for survival, in a bombing, in an assassination. What better way than to die with his lover, in this beautiful peaceful meadow, a place where they had shared so many memories?

He wanted to sleep peacefully… A lullaby. He thought of one Ukraine had always sung him. His smile was soft, as he thought of the wonderful sister he would never see again. 'Perfect…' thought the Slavic.

He smiled at China, his eyes and smile tender and then began his song, in a deep, rich, beautiful voice.

_Sleep my child, my lovely child, bayushki bayu*._

Russia considered the dying Nation whose head rested in his lap. The beautiful ivory skin, soft and smooth; although it was now marred with the wounds of a war. The soft, rosy tint to his cheeks. The warm, expressive amber eyes that could read all his sorrows. Those beautiful eyes, almost the color of molten gold. His lips, which were turning blue with cold that fit his own so perfectly. The silken hair splayed out in the snow, its rich, dark brown color in sharp contrast with the pure white. The slender, feminine, and petite frame, which seemed so delicate, but had proved so strong. His beautiful China.

_Overhead, the moon shines bright looking down on you._

For a moment, they both gazed up at the moon, so far away from this snow covered field. Perhaps there was peace up there, far from the warring humans.

_I will tell you fairytales; sing sweet songs to you._

A Fairy Tale… Yes, laying in this same meadow years ago, on a warm afternoon. Exchanging soft kisses. The grass golden, the breeze soft, the sun so gently warm, the sky a resplendent blue. Singing together, China's tenor* and Russia's baritone* blending perfectly. That moment seemed so far away now, in this same meadow. It seemed like an alternate world, a beautiful Fairy Tale with a happy ending, in the harsh reality of the cold, white present.

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, Bayushki bayu. _

With a wavering hand, China reached up and wiped a tear from Russia's face. Russia smiled at his compassion and caring and gently encased the other's cold, tiny hand in his own large, gloved one and held it to his cheek, trying to keep it warm.

_Loolah, lullaby, loolah, lullaby*._

With his free hand, Russia tenderly brushed a lock of hair from China's face, and wiped a spot of blood from one of his cheeks.

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, bayushki bayu._

Ever so carefully, Russia began to trace his hand up and down China's side, massaging the older nation a bit, trying to give him every bit of comfort he could.

_Hush, don't cry. You'll be alright, snuggled safe and warm. _

Russia placed a hand over the bleeding bullet wound in China's abdomen, feeling the blood soaking his glove, realizing once again that this was a wound that wouldn't heal. He could feel a tear slipping down his cheek.

_While I sing this lullaby and rock you in my arms._

China's free hand found Russia's, his fingers grasping at the glove, slowly pulling it off. Russia smiled and gently ran his fingers through and played with China's soft, fine, silky hair. It was something China had always loved, especially when he couldn't sleep. 'This might be the last time I do this…' thought Russia

_While the stars shine down on you, may your dreams come true, bayushki bayu._

They both thought back to a time ago, when China had been saddened by the lack of stars in a city sky, especially in comparison to his youngest days. But here, far from the majority of human population, thousands of the tiny lights graced the night sky. Yes, China's dream. To see another a peaceful night, like when he was young, so many years ago…

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, bayushki bayu._

China's eyes remained open, never leaving Russia's own, always holding the other's steady gaze, never breaking the connection, for fear that it would not be made whole again. He would not die with his eyes shut, not when he could be glimpsing Russia.

_Loolah, lullaby, loolah, lullaby._

__Russia gently ran his hand down China's face, starting at his forehead, slipping underneath the Asian's eyes, rubbing some warmth into a cold cheek, then an ear. Finally tracing over the nation's cold, dry lips.

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, bayushki bayu._

China raised his shaking, cold hand and traced gentle circles against Russia's chest for a moment, a thank you, until the action became too much and his arm dropped down to the snow.

_Loolah, lullaby, loolah, lullaby._

Russia found China's free hand, cold and limp, grasping it with his own. He could see the life leaking away from the beautiful nation below him, and he could feel the same happening to his own tired body. The End was coming for both of them… He gripped the other's hand, in an attempt to hang on. China's eyes were still open, still connected to Russia. But they were tired, slowly losing their light. But never the emotion and love they held in them, the never-ending love for the large nation above him. That would be there to the end.

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, bayushki bayu._

Russia could tell that soon China would breathe his last. His heart overflowed with emotions. He was so terribly sad to think that he would never kiss, hug, speak to, or see China alive again. Yet he was happy to be there with him, and to be dying peacefully with him as well. But most of all, he was filled with love. Filled with love for this beautiful, sweet, kind, caring and compassionate person. Every memory of the beautiful nation that he had flashed through his head, every tender moment, every argument, every parting and meeting, every hug and kiss. China's life was flashing on front of his eyes. Slowly Russia leaned down and pressed his lips against China's, the most perfect kiss, soft and full of meaning, tender and warm, loving and gentle, a good-bye kiss, a sleep well kiss, an 'I love you' kiss. Together they murmured 'I love you', lips moving in perfect synchronization. China said these three words with his last breath, his last bit of life. Tears pouring silently down his face, Russia continued his song.

_Close your eyes and go to sleep, _

Russia gently removed his hands from China's dead one for a moment to close China's eyes, still open. His fingers ghosted over China's eyelids, closing them carefully. Then he slowly lay down himself, for he could feel life coming to an end. He lay in the soft snow, once again. Just as he had when he was young. He pulled China's body to his in an attempt to keep their bodies warm, and so that they might rest together forever. He kissed Chinas forehead, and smiled a bit at the other's peaceful face, almost as if he was sleeping, still listening to the beautiful lullaby. Then with his final breath, he sang the last line of the song:

_ Bayushki Bayu._

AN: *Bayushki Bayu: 'Sleep Well' or 'Good Night'

*Loolah, lullaby, loolah, lullaby: Yes. This is part of the song.

*Tenor: Highest male voice

*Baritone: Next lowest after Tenor, I think. I wouldn't know since I'm not a guy, although I have sung a Tenor part before…

The italics are lyrics/singing.

When taking the lyrics from the music, I used the melody or the Soprano part instead of the harmony, or Alto part.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Hong Kong, China, Japan, Russia, Taiwan or S. Korea. They belong to Hima-Papa.

Words and Music for Bayushki Bayu are by Dave and Jean Perry. I do not own it either.

A Big Thank You goes out to MakesnoSensei who Beta Read and helped me come up with ideas in the first place

Please Review, and thank you for reading


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